


A Collection of Rust and Scale

by RiseiTekiSensei



Series: Not Forgotten Investigations: Case Files [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Noir, Gen, Mystery, Noirtale, POV First Person, Pre-Game...ish, Tags will update with chapters, i have no idea what else to tags this as, probably the first of this series, swearing galore, writing from Papyrus's POV is hard so please bare with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiseiTekiSensei/pseuds/RiseiTekiSensei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every case has file and every file has a story. But any story worth telling has more than one file. </p>
<p>Life is rough all around, the market crashed, the War still lurked in the back of good men's minds, and the city is one 'trigger pulling' away from detonation. Monsters and Humans never danced to the same beats, but not for lack of trying. Humans just don't like to share. But the wealth is drying up and the Family's starting to matter more than the 'blood and dust' kind, sooner or later everybody's gotta rub elbows with wrong someone to get the right something. 'Suppose the question everybody has to ask themselves is 'How much my Soul really worth?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A tap tap tapping. That’s how somethin’ big always starts. A rap rap rapping at the door. I think some poet said that, or maybe it was a raven… I guess it really doesn’t matter, anyway. 

 

It was a day- dammit, I didn’t wanna start off with this cliche nonsense but every day is a ‘normal day’ until it  **aint** and I don’t know how this day went from ‘blissfully boring’ to ‘not nearly as boring as it shoulda been’, but it did and now I’m gonna tell you. So shut up and sit down; this was a weird one. 

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK* 

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK*

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK* 

 

It was starting to become hypnotic. The rhythm of the keys, the uniform sound each one made as Papyrus typed away on that damned thing. I dunno why he insists on usin’ a typewriter instead of just hand writing the case logs. But now, with my head resting on my desk, I’m starting to see the appeal, even with the thing’s shift-lock key was stuck nine ways to hell. 

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK*

 

If I don’t move and he keeps typin’, then I might actually catch a wink, insteada just pretending to so I don’t gotta help with the paperwork. I really could use the sleep, though. This last case had us huffing it all over downtown tryin’ to catch a would be snatcher while the sky rained pitchforks on us. Guess that’s one of nice things about being us, we might get soaked to the  **bone** , but we never get chilled to it! Ha, gotta tell Pap that one later. 

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK*

 

Turns out after about a week of trying to catch the perp that was looting the whole apartment building, we got the really story. Ya see, at first the thefts were small things, trinkets, loose change, knicknacks and the like, but soon the bigger things started to vanish. Jewelry, watches, wallets, in one case a painting. The neighbors began squawking to each other and found out that this sneak had be bouncin through the whole building, all six floors of it. The residents wised up and called the cops, but low an’ behold nobody strange was coming in and out of the buildin’ but thing kept vanishing. 

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK* 

 

Now things got real hot, real fast. ‘Cause fingers started pointin’ and names started hollerin’ and that’s all fine and dandy until you remember where this building is located. These folks lived at the Edge, or that’s what we like to call it. It’s the grey space, the no man's land, between our hoods and their ‘city proper’. ‘Cept we’re all in the ‘city proper’, hell we’re both littered all over this godforsaken mud ball, but nobody ever seem to remember that. I guess that’s why Monsters and Humans never really clicked. After the Great war, lot of people thought that things might have changed, ya know? With monsters and humans on both side, fightin side by side like brothers in arms, spillin blood and dust under the same banner, people assumed it make a difference in public opinion. But nothing changed. I dunno why anybody thought it would; violence only leads to more violence and LOVE makes the world go round. I mean hell, humans hate other humans; why would they  **ever** start liking us?

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK*

 

So, anyway, a friend of a friend slipped someone one of our cards and suddenly the whole mess is our problem. The fuzz slinked back to their clubhouse desidin’ they’d let us take the fall for this mess when it inevitably goes south. So now me and Pap are scrambling to catch this wasps’ nest, hopin’ to high heaven, that nobody kicked it too hard. I thought we were gonna get stung by this mess, but Papyrus, bein’ the kinda ray of sunshine he is, saved both our hides. ‘Cause he managed to connive everybody that  **we** knew how to do  **our** damned jobs, and sometimes we’re even good at ‘em. 

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK* 

 

Turns out, not all the apartments were missing stuff, in fact, only the apartments with kiddos skulking about had been targeted. Image that. Now I just wanted to call out the snot faced brats, but  _ apparently  _ them bein’ obnoxious and rude wasn’t enough evidence to prove their guilt. So Pap did his thing and convinced all the little punks to spill their guts. Never have figured out how Papyrus does that, but even when we were kids he’d always know when and how to say just the right thing to convince anybody to change their mind. And he’s never once used this gift for somethin’ that wasn’t good and wholesome and proper. He’s always been a good kid- nah, he’s always been a  **great** kid. 

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK*

 

A cat. It’d been about a cat. The poor beastie had been hit by an auto, but instead of kickin’ the bucket it drags it’s little battered self into an ally. She’d had a litter of kittens and was just tryin’ to take care of ‘em. The kids had been out and about cause mayhem, like they do, when they saw the helpless animal and tried to do right by her and her litter. They managed to get her and hers to a vet, but they didn’t have any way to pay for their care. The vet had said if they could pay her by the end of the month, then she’d be able to care for the whole lot while the mama healed up. So with their collected wisdom, the kids decided to turn to a life of crime to save their new found friends. Managed to rope one of the older kids into their scheme, he’d been to one who’d been pawnin’ off the pilfered goods, for a fee of course. 

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK*

 

When we finally broke the news to the poor vet, she’d been so upset. She’d thought the kids had been earning an allowance and been slowly giving it to her. She and the parents of our newly discovered mini-gang sat down together to decide the fate of the cats and their cat-burgling guardians. The kids ended up working off the rest of their debt and then some under the watchful eye of Dr. Flitterwit, even the eldest entrepreneur joined them, although his punishment was a little more extensive. As for the kittens, Twinkle, Buttons, Fish, Stripes, Fluffy, Zap, and Bowie all have loving and happy homes. One with each tiny mastermind. Oh and Shela, the mama cat, she’s the vet’s office new mascot. 

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK*

 

It’s cases like these that leave me, heh,  **bone** tired, but I’d  _ fe _ **lying** if I said it didn’t make me feel a little warm and fuzzy in rib cage. Kids and kittens. Cats and cat-burglars. Only in this city do PI’s get cases like that. 

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK*     **KNOCK.   KNOCK.**


	2. Chapter 2

Everything happens for a reason. 

 

I by no means think that this phrase excuses or justifies bad things when they happen nor do I think that these words somehow implies that the world is inherently fair. But what I  **do** know is: There is a reason lurking behind  _ everything _ that happens. 

 

No person or thing is isolated in this world. All things share connections, bonds,  **strings** so to speak. And in a curious cases such as this one, those strings might just surprise you. 

  
  


CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK* 

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK*

 

CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. *KA-chiNK*  

 

**I** , am  **Not** , being quiet. I have paperwork to do, a lot of paperwork, and my typewriter is the most efficient way to do it. Now, was I under the impression that this vehement method might encourage Sans to help me finish sooner? Yes. But, as always, Sans never ceases to amaze me. I’m starting to believe that he truly can sleep through anything. 

 

Maybe I should hire a percussion ensemble put his well-honed  _ skill  _ to the test… 

 

Something rustled on the desk across from me, Sans shifted in his semi-sleep and caused a cascade of tiny displacements in the disaster he calls a work space. I tried to stifle a sigh,  _ lest _ I disturb Sans from his  _ cat _ -nap. 

 

. 

.

. 

NOW HE HAS ME DOING IT! I CANNOT ESCAPE HIS  **_EXCESSIVE_ ** PUNNING EVEN WHEN HE IS UNCONSCIOUS! 

 

Air whistled through my teeth as I sucked in a breath. I held it in my rib cage for a moment, before letting it flow back out, taking my irritation with it; just like Undyne taught me. A good police officer knows how to keep their temper even when their partner is profoundly ‘ _ Sans-ish _ ’. Although, Detective Undyne never seemed to follow her own superb advice. She once started one our  _ many  _ weekly undercover preparedness dinner review sessions by extensively detailing the code of conduct  **every** aspiring police officer trainee, such as myself, is expected to follow. 

 

_ ‘First,’ _ I heard her voice echo in my head,  _ ‘Never lose your temper!’ Her fist slammed down on the tomatoes before her, spraying juice and seeds everywhere. ‘Second, always stay alert! A criminal could be lurking around any corner waiting to strike!’ Behind her the over boiling pot on her stove hissed ominously. ‘Third, people’s face says more than their mouth-holes! Always listen for Visual CUES!’ Smoke began to pool on the ceiling of her apartment. ‘And lastly and MOST IMPORTANTLY, STAY PASSIONATE!’  _

 

The first two have alway come easily for me, but the third rule, that **\- that** has proven to be a most intriguing endeavor. It was a very  _ elusive _ mindset to achieve, but once I mastered this new found skill I discovered the truly incredible number of social cues that are readily exchanged in a conversation. And these- these… dastardly clues had been slipping passed my guard. But, No More! I will undoubtedly become not only a good cop, but a  _ Great _ one!  _ Purr _ haps even the Greatest! 

. 

. 

. 

 

I felt my eye orbit twitch. Another deep breath later; I took a moment to really study Sans. 

 

Even though Sans sleeps far more than a skeleton ought to, he never appears to be well-rested. I suppose his lassitude might be another  _ souvenir  _ from the accident, but I wish I had learned about the third rule sooner. Sans might not have had to bare such a heavy burden by himself for so long, if I had paid better attention. I felt my perma-grin fall slightly. This line of reasoning has never taken me anywhere good before-  **Therefore,** I will  **not** let it carry me away now. Afterall, the past has passed and the present can only gift us with better and brighter futures. 

 

Besides, Sans would likely notice and wake up. My brother seems to have a knack for reading the people around him, despite never actually appearing to look at them. I have come to realize that he has used this gift, on more than one occasion, to keep some of the more distasteful aspects of our new life away from me for as long as he could. Even now, after everything I have learned-  **we** have learned about some the darker parts of our job he still tries to shield me from the worst of it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank him for that kindness and have him genuinely  _ understand _ how much I mean it-  **But** ! I know actions speak louder than words so I,  _ the Great Papyrus _ , will continue to support him and his-  _ juvenile _ habits because  **that** is what family does. 

 

So I keep typing, albeit no less quietly, and try to let him get as much rest as he can. I know our last case was rather trying on his patience. He has never been good with children or- um, good with  **lots** of children all at once. I think it is reasonable to assume, in a one-on-one situation he would fair better, but with all those kids bluntly poking and prodding it only makes sense for him to become stretched a little thin. Sans has never been good with…  **sharing** . Although to his credit, he never once lost his temper with them or even let on that they were getting under his… uh, skin so to speak. But, to my well-tuned ear, his puns were growing more forced as our keen deductive skills continued to lead us back to the children. 

 

Once the case was over and every kitten- uh,  **feline** had a home, he vanished to that  _ bar _ he practically lives at. When he finally returned home it was closer to dawn than I usually expect him after one of his typical nocturnal escapades. However, my dear brother, was customarily and thoroughly  _ zozzled _ , unfortunately. I must conclude that he is truly and earnestly  **hungover** , this fine chipper morning- 

  
**KNOCK.   KNOCK.  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the rest of the chapters won't rehash stuff from both points of view. This was really just to get you guys use to the switching back and forth. 
> 
> PS: Writing Papyrus is really hard...  
> PSS: If anyone has any tips on writing with a Papyrus mind set pls send them my way

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so not a long chapter, but hey you made it to the bottom. So kudos to you. I don't know how often I'll update, but I already have a sequel planned for this fic, so here's to hoping.


End file.
